The Hijack Games
by Panda54
Summary: Title is corny, story is not (hopefully). Hiccup lives in district three, where food is scarce and hope has vanished from its citizens. The capitol has a hold of them. What will this years reaping bring? Hijack! AU, Hunger Games oriented, bit of OOC, death, blood, gore, sex. All to come.
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**A/N: HEYYYY! So, some things about this, first of all, this was not my idea! I saw some fan art on DA about Jack and Hiccup being in a Hunger Games AU and I could not stop myself from writing it. I have like a million stories to finish, but this one needs to be written. All credit for the idea goes to "KT-ExReplica" on Deviant Art. Check out their art if you haven't already, cause it's amazing! Also, this style of writing is REALLY FREAKING ANNOYING TO ME. Lol...so if there's some parts that are all messed up, that's because I must have missed it when I proofread it. I tried to make it as "Hunger Gamey" as possible. It's dark and without much description. Also it moves pretty fast. Jack will appear later (this is by no means a Hicstrid fic, not that I have anything against that ship)** **Uhm, what else...? I don't know EVERYTHING about the Hunger Games, so if anything is off or wrong, please let me know! Anyways, hope you like it. It's going to get better, so if you're willing to read I'm willing to write! Thanks again KT-ExReplica for the idea!**

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**1.**

My eyes open to early morning sunrise. Even though the light beaming through my window and down onto the skin of my neck is warm, everything else around me is bone chillingly cold. It's been snowing here in district three for almost two months now, and I never really do get used to it. The bitter cold is one thing, but traveling in it is another. Daily life is a hassle when it's below ten degrees outside. I sigh as I pull my short chestnut hair into a tiny ponytail behind my head. My skull hurts—inside I mean. Probably from spending most of my night out searching the fence. It encompasses the whole district and is always charged with an electric shock that will cause your body to melt if you ever tried touching it. Which is why I steer clear of it, except on days where I have no other choice but look for a way out.

There's this dream in my head, though everyone I told called me stupid for having it. I want to escape—leave and never come back. I want to see what is out there. Is every district the same? Are some more lenient? Are people still starving and dying in the streets there? Most of all, I want to see the capitol. Which is a terrible idea really, coming from someone as smart as I am. I don't mean to brag, but I'm a wiz when it comes to inventing and creating things out of hardly any materials at all. Some of my friends would say I'm blessed with the gift, others thought nothing of it. It's not like I can really do much with it other than sell a few things here and there for some spare change in my pocket. Living is hard enough, but starting a business in this kind of economy is practically impossible.

The innards of my stomach rumble, begging me to eat something substantial before I pass out. What a load of horseshit it is that I probably won't get to eat today. Though, I have to think that way. There isn't any other way to think in the districts. Which is why I want to travel to the capitol. Maybe somehow sneak in and become one of them. Not that I want to be anything like those pompous bastards, but I just want a life where I don't have to worry about food. Speaking of food, I need to buy some today—either that or sign up for the tesserae. It's hard to consider that, though. I don't want to put my name in more times for that sickening drawing. The one I can't stand to hear about or even mention in any conversation.

The Hunger Games are drawing very near I notice as my eyes go towards the calendar hanging on one of the dirtied walls of my small home. Soon everyone would get all dressed up, as if going to some banquet where they could meet a queen or king. We will all stand around that stadium and wait for one of our names to be called. But there will be no king or queen to meet, only untimely death. The Hunger Games are dreaded, and for good reason. Even I shake in my boots every time I think of them. Every year, they put each child's name in from the day they turn twelve until the age of eighteen, the last year that you are eligible. It's a sick way of reminding us that the capitol has us all in an iron grip with no intentions of letting us out. Rebellion is so far off the charts that no one even tries anymore. Not after what happened to district thirteen. No one wants another blood bath. But no one wants this either.

The smell of textiles fills my nose as I turn and stare at my solemn reflection in the only mirror the house possessed. It is cracked on one side, causing my neck to look deformed. The freckles on my face stand out, along with my brightly colored green eyes; they never really seem to lose their shine, which I guess is something to be happy about. I'm coughing as I wash my face. My throat hurts from what I assume to be allergies. The small pay I receive from working in the factories can hardly keep me healthy let alone fed.

A small cat jumps onto the counter suddenly, scaring me half to death. It's black with yellow eyes that could probably scare anyone in the dark. I pet the feline, noticing its few patches of lost fur.

"Getting into trouble, Toothless?" I ask the tabby, running my hand along its back again.

The cat meows at me, purring from the touch. It's been almost a year since I found the cat. It was starving and beaten down, but I saved it. The kitten still hobbles a little, but he's a kind animal.

After brushing my teeth, I enter the living room where my father is sleeping. He's a very large man with a big heart, benevolent to a tee, more or less. Looking at him makes me miss my mother. He's snoring, loudly at that, so I leave as quickly as possible.

Outside it is downright freezing. My gloves and socks are doing nothing to save me from the daunting premonition of frostbite. Toothless follows me up until I reach the large warehouse. The smoke coming from those stacks pierces the sky and leaves little clean air to breathe. I'm coughing way before I enter the building. Now that I am seventeen and out of school, I work every day of my life in the factories. I stand all day; my feet usually feel like rubber after a few hours. The work isn't too hard, I know what I'm doing and it's easy to put together all the different parts to guns and electronics. It's just terribly boring and mind-numbingly exhausting. I tend to picture myself doing this for the rest of my life. I hate thinking like that. Downright loathe it.

I'm greeted by a few of my friends as I assume my regular position around all the dirty conveyer belts and rusted wheels and levers.

"Hey, Hiccup," the boy calls out my nickname while he is also doing his work. My real name, Hieden, is much more formal, though I don't mind being called Hiccup from time to time. I look at the dark haired boy up and down quickly. He's short and a little chubby; he gets that from his parents who own a tiny sweets shop near my house. I always hate passing by, my mouth waters nearly every time.

I nod back to him and start up a few machines. I also wave a little to the twins whom I know from grade school. They always seem to be fighting about something, but are also thick as thieves. I am a little jealous of their relationship. I honestly don't have anyone who I care for aside from my father and Toothless. Nothing else really matters. Nothing aside from staying alive that is.

But when I really think about it…what is the point of all this? I grew up in this city, filled with starving children and polluted air merely to continue on living that way for the rest of my life? Where is the good in any of that? There is no good…not in the districts. The capitol drinks all of the wealth and happiness from everyone around them. Those blood sucking leaches.

A light comes on and I hear a few telltale noises of a projector being fired up. I look up and realize that there is a broadcast on the wall. It is loud enough so everyone stops and pays attention to it. Much to my dismay, the projection depicts a man with a slightly long face, his eyes black as night and his skin the color of charcoal. Everyone knew this man; he is like a god to the capitol and a filthy conman to the districts.

"Hello everyone, this is president Pitch speaking to you all on this gorgeous day," announces the president, as if no one knows who he is in the first place. "I'm here to tell you all that the annual Hunger Games are approaching very soon, indeed. And you all must be ready for this wonderful occasion, when we celebrate sixty-three years of the capitol overcoming the hardship's that the districts have brought down upon us. In memory of all those citizens who lost their lives, we ask you to take part in the games as not only tributes, but hero's. In three days the tributes will be reaped from the ages of twelve and eighteen to participate in the games. They will be challenged and tested on their skills and bravery while in the games. They will be required to fight the rest—to the death. And once one is standing, they will come home to riches and wealth beyond their wildest dreams. Let this be a reminder that no one can stand up against—"

I plug my ears, trying to block it out. His voice scares me. The thought of being in the games scares me. When I finally pull my fingers away from my ears, I hear one last sentence come from those sickly lips, "—and may the odds be ever in your favor."

Its four hours of work until I can finally sit down. The cup of water in my hands tastes so good to me; I drink it as fast as possible. With what little cash I have, I pay for a small loaf of bread at the lunch room and then sit down to eat what I have. I feel stares on me, empty stomachs growling and very few sounds of silverware clinking like how a normal cafeteria is supposed to sound. Not that I would know. Only a handful of people are eating. Those who can spare the extra money and don't have to spend it on family members or dying animals.

I munch on my bread in the quietude of my mind, focusing on nothing except the dull murmur of voices hovering around my head. Soon someone sits with me. I look up and realize it's a girl with dull blonde hair tied back into a braid. She seems tired and worn down, her face sunken in a little, probably from days of not eating. Her blue eyes tug on my heart strings and I pull off some of my bread and hand it to her. It is gone in less than five seconds, I counted.

"What's your name?" I ask as I give her another bite.

She gobbles it down once again, not even looking at me this time. "Astrid," she replies with a mouth full of dough.

It is quiet again and I decide to just give her the rest of my bread. My stomach isn't full at all, but it makes me happy that I have someone to keep me company.

"Are you worried about the reaping?" the blonde asks me out of the blue. The word sends chills up my spine.

I try to shake off my uncomfortable emotions. "It scares me to hell and back."

She nods and continues to eat. It's not long before the bell rings and we are sent back to work again. I watch as the girl walks in front of me. One of her shoes is moth bitten and her knuckles are red and bleeding from the winter's cold. If I have an extra pair of gloves, I'll bring it to her tomorrow.

The day goes by so slowly. My fingers burn, grease cakes under my nails and sweat drips down the back of my neck. As I exit the factory, I take a detour to the market. I have meager change, but enough to buy my father something to eat for the day at least.

The streets are bustling, despite the cold air blowing through everyone's worn clothes. I stop by the butcher and purchase a very small slab of meat which I wrap up and put into my shoulder bag. With the last of my money, I buy a decent sized loaf of bread which is piping hot and smells amazing. I want nothing more than to sink my teeth into it, but I can wait. My father hasn't eaten all day and is probably starving. As I walk away with my treasures, I notice a child tugging on my pants. My generosity has run out and I am chilled to the bone. Even though I feel bad, I can't keep helping every single person that needs it. I would end up giving away my house if that happened. So I brush him off and keep my steady pace. My heart aches at the feeling of guilt bubbling up inside me.

The door creaks as I push myself through. My voice also is shaky after not using it for basically the whole day. "Dad?"

"Hieden," I hear. He's in the same place I left him, sitting by the small fireplace that isn't burning.

I walk into the room and set my bag down beside him, wrapping the strap around his arm. "I'm going to get more fire wood. There's food for you in my bag."

He coughs and then laughs and wheezes again before answering, "I have such a good son."

The smile on my face is genuine, but hardly worth the effort. He can't see it. He's gone blind in his old age for almost a year now. Also to add to the misfortune, he lost his leg in the factory due to someone being a dipshit and leaving the machinery on for too long. It went haywire and sliced his leg up something awful. So he's basically immobile and inoperable. They say he can't work anymore. It came upon me to take care of him, but he isn't getting any better. His cough is way worse than mine. Sometimes I notice he coughs up blood. I'll clean it up while telling him about my day. He doesn't know, and I don't want to tell him. If he only has a few months or even weeks to live, I can't let him know that.

Tears brim in my eyes as I pile my arms with wood. Nothing can save him, and I absolutely hate that. Nothing can save me either. Nothing can save the districts. And nothing ever will.

Night time draws near and my father is sleeping again. Toothless purrs and warms my lap as I sit close to the remains of the fire. It crackles and pops, dying in the cold that creeps up behind me. I stand up and make sure my father has enough blankets to keep him warm throughout the night. As I walk off to my room I feel the need to bathe but despise the thought of getting into a tub of cold water. We are lucky enough to have running water in our house; hot water is a privilege that only few people can afford. Most people don't even have sinks.

I wash myself with that thought in mind, even though chills cover my body, I hurry and scrub my skin until it's raw. The filth of the day mixes with my rattled emotions and fills the tub until I can retire to my bed for the night. I think of the boy, clinging to my pants in the market. I think of the girl Astrid, who is forced to work hard labor when she is hardly bigger than a toothpick. And I think of my father, whose days are number all because of the capitol. I damn them in my head, cursing out vulgarities and screaming silently for only myself to hear. The hatred I had for the people in the capitol was unfathomed.

The next day goes by even slower than the one before. I think it's because I'm dreading the reaping. Or maybe it's because another day has gone by and my father only moves less and less. Whatever it is, the horrible sick feeling in my gut doesn't dissipate. Even when I sit down next to Astrid at lunch I can't seem to bring myself to think of anything good in the world.

I give her an extra pair of gloves from my pocket and she thanks me gratefully. The girl then speaks to me a little more than yesterday. She tells me of her family. They have five children and only a mother to care for them. They manage to keep a small business going with the livestock the have acquired by selling milk and fresh cheese. Most of her siblings are young, so Astrid feels she has to keep the family from falling into the gutter.

"I've had to put my name in an extra forty-one times…" she tells me solemnly. "Without the tesserae we might not make it…" My green eyes blink without emotion. Only sadness seeps into my soul, gradually eating away at it like acid the more the girl speaks. "I'm so sacred…what if I get chosen this year? I don't want to die. I don't want to die…"

I clench my fingers into a fist beneath the table, feeling the need to punch something—anything. If I had to pick, it would be some pompous capitol snob. But I stilled myself for the sake of the girl. "Don't worry so much. You'll go gray." I pick up the end of her braid and smile through heated emotions and this makes her smile. I feel happy that I can still trigger someone do that. Even if I know hardly anything about this girl, we can still share one common goal. To bring happiness to others around us, little by little, day by day.

Work is long and hard and when I return home I have nothing aside from sweat and tired sighs. I work all night on trying to come up with some way to breach the fence. If I can just get past it, then I could hunt in the woods. I am skilled at making arrows and know how to hunt from my father telling me about it. I would have to practice a lot, but at least I would be trying. I hate just sitting in my room with nothing to do and only an empty stomach to remind me that I'm still alive.

The morning comes too soon and once again I'm back at the factory. I spend lunch with Astrid again and we have a short conversation about the capitol. I almost end up punching the table. The blonde gives me wide eyes when I stand up and briskly walk away, not being able to handle any more of it.

Throughout the day I'm constantly thirsty but the hunger pains have subsided. A different pain enters my gut and calls it home—some kind of foreboding. I fear for my life. The reaping is tomorrow and I'm not ready for it. What will happen to my father if I'm chosen? Will he die on that couch? Will I never be able to see him again?

These thoughts plague me while I work, rubbing grime onto my already filthy jeans. Another long four hours pass by and I can finally return home after getting my meager pay. This causes a small burst of joy to erupt inside of me as I shop the market, looking for something delicious to share with my father. If it was indeed my last day with him, I wanted to make it special.

I bought a small roasted chicken and some freshly baked honey bread. I even sprang for a delicious smelling sauce that I figured would mesh very well with the rest of it.

On my way home, Toothless accompanies me, clinging to my heel like a pricker bur. I smile down at him, "If you're a good kitty, I'll let you have some chicken." He meows at me, as if knowing the human language.

"Dad, I'm home," I call into the house, placing my things onto the table. For some odd reason, I don't get a reply. He must be sleeping.

I walk into the room where he lies and approach him. "Dad. I bought food. Aren't you hungry?" I place a hand on his chest and shake him a little.

He's not breathing though and I want to think my mind is playing tricks on me.

"Dad, please wake up, you're scaring me…" My eyes begin to water, salty liquid dripping down my face in quick instants. "Dad…_please_…"

I fall to my knees, bruising them most likely and cry. I cry my eyes out and bawl into his neck, leaving spots on his shirt. Everything hurts.

Hours pass by but they seem like years. I choke and gag on my own saliva but don't throw up. I haven't eaten in more than a day, so there isn't much in my stomach. My whole body aches as if someone has just beaten me to a pulp. After long hours of sitting there, I stand and clamber into the kitchen again. Toothless is perched beside my bag, guarding it and staring at me as he does.

I take the strap and swing it around my body then exit the house. Nothing seems real as I walk through town, holding onto my bag tightly, digging my nails into the leather. The snow crunches beneath my feet, cold and uncaring, like the rest of the world. I smell the food once again but nothing makes me want to eat. Without much of an idea of what I was doing, I walk up to the store that I knew to be the dairy. I hope she lives here.

A few knocks on the door summons a tiny girl to answer it for me. "Are you a customer? Customers can just walk in, silly." She begins to tug on my arm, bringing me into the warmth. The smell makes me sick to my stomach so I cover my nose with my sleeve.

After a few moments of her pulling, I see Astrid behind a counter. Her large eyes blink at me and she lifts a wooden plank to come and meet me. "Hieden?"

"I…" my voice is low and inaudible. My throat feels like it's on fire as I try again, "Here…" I shove the bag into her hands and begin to walk back towards the door.

"W-wait, Hieden!" I've already left by the time she said my name.

I end up sitting by the fence for another few hours. The wind is calm and cooling, drying my damp face free of tears. I have nothing now. Nothing to keep safe. Nothing to live for. My life is meaningless.

I hear a meow to my right and Toothless is there. I bite my lip and the cat lets me hold it and cry some more. Its fur drenched in tears, never once does he move from my embrace.

My mind tells me to go home; my body is numb from the cold and the wind. I can hardly feel my legs as I return, knowing that I am going to have to bury my own father, all by myself.

The house smells horrid already, as if the body has been left to rot for days instead of hours. I can hardly bring myself to walk into that room again. I'm scared and hurt. I cry more as Toothless follows me, perhaps for moral support.

It takes me hours to dig a hole big enough in the frozen ground. I'm tried and starving by the time I finish. I drink from the sink to replenish my thirst and then begin to drag his body out of the house and into the backyard where I have dug the grave. The whole time I am solidly detached from reality, focusing on nothing but the task at hand.

His lifeless body falls into the hole with a loud thud and I cringe, feeling myself retch. I dry heave, my hands on the snowy ground, my gloves drenched from tears and melted snow. Before pulling myself back up, I reach for the shovel and begin filling in the pit. With each sound of dirt hitting his body, I cripple in on myself. Soon, I'm simply pushing the dirt around, hoping it will fall into the hole and cover my dead father.

When I re-enter my home, it doesn't feel like a home at all. It seems more like a tomb. I cry some more as I wash the dirt and grime from my body. I'm cold and shivering by the time I lay down for sleep. It comes to me quickly, which I'm thankful for.

The only bad thing is, I have no time to remember that the reaping is only hours away.

Sunlight breaches my eyes the next morning, letting me know it's just past noon. Shock enters my stomach, my chest hurts like crazy. I try not to remember that my father is dead.

Something sounds in the distance—a long, piercing alarm, followed by two more, each as loud as the next.

It only means one thing: it's the day of the reaping.

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**Review if you think it's worth keeping!** **Thanks so much for reading! **


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**A/****N:**** HEY YOU GUYS! I love all of you who reviewed and favorited this! You're freaking great, seriously. I'm having so much fun writing this and I want to keep going. I've got a lot of ideas for it! Also, I've got to mention that some of the tributes in this story will be original characters since there really aren't that many kids I can use from these particular fandoms. And there's also going to be a little bit at the end of this chapter from me, so make sure to read that too. :] I hope you guys like this installment! There's a few things that are a little strange, like OOC - Astrid being very shy and scared and Hiccup being very staid and basically really bad ass. It's a different world, so they act very different. Also, Astrid and Hiccup are like...brother and sister. She MIGHT end up liking him as more than that later on, (no idea, really) but Hiccup will not reciprocate the feelings. Little tiny bit of Jack in this one, so enjoy!~  
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**2.**

People crowd the streets as I dread the next hour of my life with all that I have. I focus on my breathing, slow steady breaths to assure myself that I can handle it—that I wasn't going to be chosen. That this will all just blow over soon and I can return home to…to Toothless…

A peacekeeper strolls hurriedly by me then brushes my shoulder with his and in an instant he shoves very hard against me. I groan a little and glare at him; only he beats me to it. His eyes are like cold metal, harsh to look at and chilling to the bone. I turn my gaze away and pretend it didn't happen. Messing with any of the peacekeepers usually means certain death. If one foot is placed out of line, it is the stockades or the firing squad. Plenty more of the white-suited men are stomping around the district, watching us, being sure that everyone who still has breath in their lungs shows up to the reaping.

My rapidly beating heart doesn't slow. I feel like maybe I should fall over, pretend to be knocked out so maybe I won't have to be there. Obviously that won't work; they would find some way to force me against my will. No matter what—every single person in the district is to be there when they announce the new tributes.

Out of nowhere, among the crowd, I hear my name being called. "Hieden!"

It's the girl, Astrid. She's breathing heavily like me, her breath forming into puffs of white near her chapped lips. "Hieden, you didn't let me thank you for yesterday…"

I look ahead of her as she has stopped me from continuing to the event. I'm a little thankful for this momentary pause from the nightmare. "It's nothing," I say to her, knowing that it _was_ in fact, something, but not really having the courage to accept her kindness.

She shakes her head, her braid shifting from each of her shoulders like a wagging tail. "You don't know how happy my family was to have the meal." I nod slightly, trying not to look in her eyes. I can't, for some reason. The gratitude makes me feel uncomfortable. "The rest of my family is already at the reaping. I told them I was going to go look for you. Do you want to walk together?" Her eyes are blue with a hint of green, reminding me of my own. This girl could probably be beautiful, though that's only a fleeting thought.

We are walking again soon and the anxiety creeps back with vengeance. My nails are biting into my palms leaving marks that hurt, but at least it gives me something else to focus on. There are lines of children, all young, all possible tributes. They're rowed up for the finger pricking. This part isn't so bad; it doesn't hurt much, only a little blood is shed. I think it's for documentation and identification, something along those lines. But again, I hate that the bastards do it. They treat us like test subjects, taking blood samples for their senseless games.

I step in front of Astrid because I notice her trembling. She smiles a little at me and I stare vacantly ahead, attempting to focus on how cold it is or which way the wind is blowing. The line moves quickly, they take no care in handling us even with such delicate things as blood samples.

The white jacketed capitol member holds out their hand, moving their fingers in an abrupt way, motioning for me to give them my pointer finger. With regret, I do as I'm told and the prick hurts a little, I notice the small imprints my nails have left in my palm. Quickly they stamp it onto a piece of paper, along with hundreds of others and I move along. My feet stop and I turn a little to see Astrid flinching out of the corner of my eye. She must be squeamish.

The blond girl approaches me and I continue to walk again, keeping a slow pace. In the long run, we have to separate, the girls and boys on opposite sides.

"Don't be scared," I tell her softly, reaching for her wrist at the last second. I don't know why I say this; perhaps I'm terrified and not thinking. Or maybe I just want to know that someone else can be less frightened than me.

Her throat makes a small noise and she nods, I notice her eyes are watering a little. Inside, I can tell, she is about to snap. We feel the same. Scared to the bone at what could become of this day.

The odds are in my favor, seeing as how I haven't had to put my name in more times for the tesserae. Astrid is in trouble though, along with tons of other girls and boys, I'm sure. Why, then am I so scared? Every year is the same, and every time I hear someone else's name get called, I heave a sigh of relief.

Thank god it's not me.

Thank god I'm not going to die yet.

Thank god I'm not in the games this year.

I wait patiently for those thoughts to run through my head again as I take my spot in the crowd, standing by a boy who smells and another who is a foot taller than me. I pretend to act normal around them for unknown reasons. I have no need to impress anyone. If my bravery is seen, no one will even care.

I feel as if I can hear everyone's heavy breathing. The wind has picked up, blowing cold air through the only pair of nice jeans I own. The shirt is also dressy. The only time I wear these is to the reaping's. After my last year, I am going to burn these clothes and smile as I do. The boy's hand to my right is shaking uncontrollably. It is good to know I'm not the only one basically pissing my pants.

All eyes go to a woman who comes onto the stage. I can see pretty well, being decently tall. The words that I think of when I see this woman are vulgar and cruel. She's dressed as a fairy, huge wings cascading from her back, her outfit green and blue and yellow, causing my eyes to feel violated. I haven't seen such bright colors since last year when she was dressed in an all red outfit with long pinwheels attached to her shoulder blades, spinning as she walked.

Her name is Thiana Tooth, and everyone in our district hates her guts. She's excitable and loud, obnoxious and downright full of herself. Whenever she speaks on the microphone I shudder and my insides churn.

"Hello, all! And welcome to the sixty-third annual Hunger Games reaping!" Thiana declares, once again being as flamboyant as ever. It seems as though she has gotten a tad bit gaudier since last year, I note. No one applauds, no one shouts or screams or begs for more. Everyone is silent as mice, standing with vacant expressions on their faces. Some are crying already, others still holding back tears. I search for Astrid amongst the crowd, but can't seem to find her. My attention is brought back to the stage as the obnoxious woman begins to speak again. "As most of you know, today is the day that two of you will be allowed to travel to the capitol and participate in the games!"

She sounds so damn excited. I'd like to see her in the games. Maybe someone would rip off one of those wings and choke her to death with it. My thoughts drift a little as she continues to speak about the games. A picture of the president appears on a large screen, the image moving, his sneer and dark eyes roaming over us like cattle. I imagine ripping his throat out with my teeth, biting down hard and tearing out his jugular. My k-9s clench inside my mouth, my jaw line setting and clicking. He deserves it. He would merit every fucking second of the torturous pain.

I glare at him and hope he can see me. I want to flip my middle finger up towards it, but refrain. If I did something like that, the peacekeepers might want to kill me. And I don't plan on dying just yet.

The president is speaking and I want to hurl. "Panem thanks you, tributes. Your courage and sacrifice will be revered."

_Revered my ass. All that guy wants is to see innocent people die_, I growl to myself, angrily spitting on the ground.

"Thank you, President Pitch!" Thiana claps, sounding oddly noisy in the dismal space. "Now!" I swallow thickly, sensing my pulse soar. "The tributes will be chosen! Girl's before boys, of course."

I can barely watch as the woman proceeds to reach her hand into a large glass bowl. It is filled about halfway with small paper slips, names written on each one, some more than others.

My eyes are closed now as I attempt to breathe normally. I'm hardly familiar with any of the girls in the village, so the chance of me knowing who it is will be quite slim.

_Just not Astrid, please, _the thought goes through my mind in an instant, and in the next, her name is announced.

"Astrid Hofferson!"

My breathing is uneven and rapid. I want to see her. I have to. Where is she?! My eyes are frantic, searching everywhere for the unfortunate girl. She's got to be crying. She's probably shocked beyond belief.

_Dammit, _I cringe and fold in on myself, clutching my arm to my side in order to force myself to stay put.

"Come on up here, dearie!" Thiana acts as if the girl has just won an award, not a death sentence. I watch with fearful eyes as the blonde makes her way onto the platform. Her eyes are cold and emotionless. She looks as if she hasn't accepted it yet. I haven't either. I'm pissed beyond reason, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. She doesn't deserve this. That girl has done nothing to anyone and she's being sent to die, to be slaughtered on national television.

This is bullshit. Fucking bullshit.

I want to shout and scream at the top of my lungs for all to hear. I want to strangle the woman on stage that is standing so close to the innocent girl I had so recently shared my food with at lunch and seen shortly after I had found my father to be dead. She's wearing the gloves I gave her. My heart clenches tight in my chest.

"Congratulations, Astrid!"

I hear crying in the crowd and my eyes reel towards a few girls who are clinging to each other. Both have similar blonde hair tied in braids. Her sisters. One is the small girl who had greeted me so cheerfully at the door to her dairy shop. I'm sure that smile will be gone for quite a while now.

Astrid eyes are staring off into the distance and for a moment I think she meets mine. My eyes are as compassionate as can be. This girl is doomed. She can hardly stand a finger prick.

"Boys are next!" Thiana's voice is like grating sandpaper to my ears. Disgust enters my body when she reaches those long finger nailed hands into the bowl.

My stomach is full of nothing aside from nausea.

In the next few moments, I realize that the odds stopped being in my favor a long time ago.

"Hieden Haddock!"

I knew it. I fucking knew it.

A smile crosses my face and I push aside the few kids beside me. They look at me with grief but also indebtedness. They're so glad it isn't them walking up to that stage. I could be one of them. I used to be one of them, last year and the few years before that. Watching as the newly named tribute nervously trips up to the stage and stands there, dazed and mortified, their lives just then coming to an end. You figure it takes a while for them to realize that they have been condemned to die. But I know what is happening.

I know that I'm a new tribute in the Hunger Games. I do not look scared as I stand beside Astrid Hofferson. My eyes are cold as ice, focused on the horizon and the way the sun hovers over the clouds, dipping into them, hiding from the rest of the world.

My hands are not shaking anymore—I know my fate is sealed. For some reason, my apprehension is drifting away. I look down towards the girl and she seems petrified still. So without much thought, I reach down and grab her gloved hand. People are staring at us, watching intently. I see a few of her family members and notice they are still crying, but also seem a bit hopeful at my act of kindness towards their loved one.

"Don't be scared," I repeat again to her, whispering the words as Thiana stares awkwardly and attempts to congratulate me as well.

A tear runs down Astrid's cheek, streaking her pale skin in its wake. I know she can't speak right now—she's too frightened. But instead of crumbling more and more, she stiffens and stands up straight. A half smile tugs at my lips but it vanishes within an instant. I think I see her mother, and she is so sad. Her eyes scream out to me and I grip Astrid's hand tighter.

"Ladies and gentleman! Our district three tributes!" The showy woman claps again but no one in the crowd follows suit. There is a sense of sorrow in the air that cannot be cured. Not by shiny lights or flashy clothing. Not by millions of dollars or fake promises and lies.

A mother has lost her child and it is nothing to applaud about.

The Capitol's anthem starts playing and I want to cover my ears as I have before. I refrain, however. There will be cameras on us from here on out. I can't afford to look weak in front of those jerks.

Astrid and I are separated when the song ends, each of us marched into the building attached to the stage. I wasn't sure what it was used for, maybe some kind of office or peacekeeper headquarters.

I am shoved into an empty room that is dimly lit, the window high up and foggy from the cold outside. My eyes scan my surroundings. There is carpet—_actual_ carpet, and a few comfy looking chairs. It's also quite warm, but I spot no fireplace. There must be central heating. I've never been anywhere so luxurious. Maybe in my boss's office, but definitely nowhere normal in district three. I suddenly notice how quiet it is. I start to become a little nervous. The door opens and I jolt a little, startled by the unexpected noise.

"They went to your house but no one was home," a peacekeeper tells me. He is wearing a helmet that shields his eyes from view but shows his mouth.

I remain calm as I answer him, "My parents are dead and I have no siblings."

A gruff reply, "Any other family?"

"No," I say.

He nods and exits the room, leaving me alone again. I find myself sighing and my stomach rumbles loudly. I don't think I've eaten in at least two or three days. My head is pounding but my heart rate is slow and steady. I try not to think about death, as much as it lingers over my head like an angry storm cloud.

To my right, I hear voices. There is crying and wailing. I can't make out much of it so I lean my head against the wall and listen.

"I love you mom…"

"I love you too, Astrid…"

My nails tear at my chest where my heart is, gripping the shirt firmly in my hand. I want to punch a hole through the wall, but that would only frighten them. I breathe in steady breaths to keep myself from kicking the door down. More long minutes pass by, in which I hear Astrid's small voice speaking a little through the wall. She's still crying, sobbing uncontrollably. I hear her door open a few more times as I walk up to my own and jiggle the handle. It's locked, of course. I have no one to visit me, no family and no friends who really, truly care.

I am left with nothing apart from my thoughts, which I am trying so hard to avoid.

The odds are twenty-four to one. But if I count Astrid as my ally—someone I'm not going to kill, it gives me a miserable twenty-three to two. Can I really count on that girl in the arena…? Even if she does help, she may end up being the only one left in the end and I'll have to…

I stop myself short as I begin to think too violently—much too quick. I'll have plenty of time for that while in the capitol.

_Wait…that's right. I get to see the capitol_, I thought suddenly.

It's a dream come true, minus the ominous death verdict, of course. I attempt to ready myself for what is about to happen. I am going to be able to see the great city of riches. Apparently, I've heard they have floating cars and fire-breathing dragons. Though those are just stories. The only people who have seen the capitol and came back to tell the tale, are the victors of the games. The ones who win and are allowed to live in the huge, magnificent mansions that stand just by the city's border. They call it the Victor's Village. Pretty clichéd. There are a few victors from district three, I remember. We always have to greet them when they come home, looking as if they had come back from a beauty pageant and not a death match. I'm not looking forward to being dressed up to look like one of their plastic dolls.

The door unlocks again in the next moment and I'm not as shocked as before. But when I see who it is, my demeanor changes instantly.

Astrid's mother stands there with a tear soaked face and swollen red eyes. My heart feels heavy as she walks towards me, the door closing behind her small frame. She seems worn down, much more than her daughters, her braid turning gray with her age. She's fragile looking, like a glass figurine.

I swallow, my mouth is so very dry.

In the next moment, she is hugging me and I'm slightly perplexed. I let my body relax a little, feeling quite strange that this woman is embracing me in such a manner. But then she begins to cry on my shoulder and my nervous hand hovers up to pet the back of her head.

"I will do everything I can to keep your daughter alive," I tell her with some kind of strange assurance I didn't know I had.

She gasps in a sob, her body shaking. "Thank….thank you…" She is barely audible. The woman wipes a tattered sleeve across her face when she backs away from me. I try on a smile and for a moment, I could have sworn she gave me one back.

I think almost an hour passes by after Astrid's mother visited me. I'm tired and so very hungry. Finally, the crying in the other room stops and my door opens soon afterwards.

"This way, now," says a callous looking man, gesturing towards the hallway with his large hand. I begin to walk and he follows behind me, his toes often hitting my heels from being so close. They don't have to worry about me running away from this. Every bone in my body is telling me that I'm ready. At least I won't have to be home anymore. At least I won't have to look at the place my father died any longer or remember the violent death of my young mother in the town square which I frequently pass by.

_District three will be a distant memory now,_ I thought with a bit of a cynical attitude. I could think that all I wanted, but in the end, everything would be a memory, including me.

We arrive at the train station where reporters are flocking towards us. Astrid is at my side, her arm clinging to mine, terror stained in her eyes. She seems like a small animal when I look towards a TV that is hanging on a wall, portraying the two of us on the screen. I look fearless though, which I commend myself for.

Everyone is shouting and my ears hurt. I'm sick of the idiots taking pictures and filming us as if we're some undiscovered talent brought to their eyes at last. We're only kids. Scared, traumatized kids.

Both the blonde and I are then shoved onto the train after the peacekeepers fight off the band of reporters and paparazzi.

It's really warm on the train, a shock to me and probably Astrid too. The speed at which we are going is shocking too, my insides feel a little funny but only at the mention of the vehicle going more than two hundred and fifty miles an hour. Apparently we would be at the capitol is about a day and a half. Everything is sparkling as well, so it seems. Even the train has carpet. I feel the need to take off my shoes and run my toes through it, if only for a moment. The girl is still clinging to me as Thiana shows us around the train. There are rooms, about five or six, with private bathrooms in each.

"There's hot and cold water for showers, so you two can get all cleaned up," the fairy woman says as we follow not too closely behind her. She smells like a batch of posies mixed with cough medicine. Even though we have to stay in the same car as this dense woman, we each look at each other in astonishment at the mention of hot water. If I take anything from this horrible stroke of bad luck, it will be to experience a warm shower.

Thiana finishes her tour and then tells us to go get washed up for dinner. I can hardly wait to eat.

"Go shower and I'll meet you in your room when I'm done, alright?" I tell the frightened girl. She's still very shaken up, but she manages another nod and then disappears into the room.

The hot water on my head is heavenly, but the device is strange and foreign to use. There are so many different buttons that I accidentally start playing loud, obnoxious music and cannot figure out how to turn it off for almost a minute.

When I dry off, I check inside the large dresser and find a pair of tailored jeans and a black shirt that fit me comfortably. I notice my reflection in the mirror. It's so gigantic and I'm not used to seeing my full body like this. My big eyes blink as I stare at myself. I dare to think that I'm handsome, if that's not too conceited. Clothes like these are very hard to find in district three—nearly impossible. I have been wearing the same outfit for almost a month anyway, so it's different seeing my body like this.

With a slight shake of my hair, I exit the room and walk straight across the hall into Astrid's. She's still showering so I sit on the bed and wait. I admire the paintings on the walls and the soft silk beneath my fingertips. It's like being in some kind of fantasy storybook—with a terrible plot twist.

The blonde exits the bathroom with just a towel on, and locks her eyes on me. Her cheeks turn an instant shade of pink and she says nothing as she goes to the dresser to get some clothes.

I try to stop myself from laughing. "Sorry, I'm not looking," I say as I turn my whole body and face away from her.

She's still quiet and I'm smiling a little.

When she's clothed, we both return to the dining room and sit down at the table. I'm as far away from Thiana as possible so I won't risk stabbing her in the throat with a fork. Astrid pulls her chair a little closer to me, I notice, as the food is brought out.

At first I was very impressed with the shower, but the food wins me over in an instant. Everything is so warm and delicious; I begin eating as if I'd never been taught proper table manners in my life. I consume turkey legs and hot onion stew, then pickled plums and hash browns, along with ice cream cake and chocolate truffles for desert.

Astrid is eating, but very slowly, and not as much as I am. I poke her leg under the table with my knee and she instantly looks towards me.

"If you want to stay strong, you have to eat as much as you can. You need to put on some weight," I murmur to her. Astrid seems apprehensive, but continues to eat, a little faster this time. I place some more turkey and steak on her plate as she does. Thiana scoots to the far end of the table to eat with a few other capitol dressed people. She appears disgusted by my eating habits. When she looks at me again with those scrutinizing eyes, I flip her off, gravy dangling off my chin and dripping onto my plate.

After stuffing our faces, Astrid looks sick. I feel it too. The food was amazing, but too rich and sweet for our stomachs.

"Try to keep it down," I say to her while burping slightly.

Her eyes shine and she just nods at me again. I wonder when she'll start speaking.

They make us watch the other reaping's now on a large television placed in front of a comfortable couch. The girl sits down beside me, her leg brushing against mine. I don't take much notice in it, only what's on the screen. We see district one, the two chosen look big and tough. I've been told before that the tributes from district one and two are trained in a special school; I think they call themselves careers. They volunteer for the games, as if it's some kind of sick sport they can't wait to take part in. Thiana joins us soon, along with a few of her friends to watch the broadcasts. They're laughing and giggling to each other, I make sure to frown at them as much as possible. I feel Astrid's fingers clench around my sleeve, pulling a little.

"What's wrong?" I whisper to her.

She's not looking at me, just the TV set and I see why she's upset. It's showing district three now, and I watch as it displays the horrified look that had overtaken Astrid's face when she was called. She trips a little while walking up to the stage and I can barely watch. When Thiana calls my name I'm still watching, it's not so bad once I grab Astrid's hand and tell her to not be scared. We exit and everything fades to black then it goes on to district four. Not much catches my eye until district seven comes on the screen. Everything is fine, but when the boy is summoned, things get a little out of hand. His name is Jackson Overland and I watch as he storms up to the stage and furiously takes his place beside the timid looking girl who I guess is probably only twelve. The white haired boy is about my age and I notice he's very good-looking. A few screams are heard and then, without any forethought it seems, Jackson reaches for the microphone and yells into it.

It's censored so I can't hear his vulgarity, "_BEEP_ this! _BEEP_ the capitol! Think I'll just stand here and take this _BEEP_! _BEEP_ you! And _BEEP_ president Pitch, you _BEEP_ing _BEEP_!"

He's ushered out of the room by a few guards and the petite girl is left standing there with tears streaming down her face.

"Holy shit…" I say out loud, a little muttered under my breath.

"I know _someone_ who would get along with that boy," Thiana speaks up and they all share a laugh. _Ha ha_, I think sarcastically. I turn towards her, giving her the blankest stare I can muster while raising my eyebrow. I want to throw the remote at the woman, but also don't want to get in any trouble, especially with Astrid sitting right beside me.

So I choose to ignore her after that and focus on the reapings, even if I hate them. I see a few more people I take note of in my head—Laura Kaelea from eight who has very sharp teeth and a crooked smile. Ethan Cass from ten who keeps a huge grin on the whole time while on stage. Maurice Kaspar from eleven who is tall and broad and seems almost too brave. I then realize that I'll be meeting all of these people very soon, and eventually…one of them is probably going to kill me.

Or I'll be killing them.

I can hardly picture myself actually murdering someone, even if they were about to murder me. These are just kids. Most of them just want to go home and be with their families. None of them deserve to die or be killed by my hands.

_It's the capitol who's really killing them_, I tell myself as the broadcast finally ends and we are addressed by Thiana once again.

"Now!" She claps her hands together and I hate her even more for being so fucking bubbly even when she's not on camera. "Eret Gareth will be your mentor for the games, if I could just find him, I'll introduce you two."

A few of her friends call for the man who eventually appears from one of the dark hallways, a loud yawn resounding from his lips. He's dressed in slacks, comfy looking pants that hang on his hips and threaten to fall off his frame. He's not wearing a shirt, but his body isn't bad to look at. I stare a little and then look at his face. His nose is pierced and he has ashy hair that is a tad bit messy. Generally, he's not at all bad looking, but obviously tired.

"Tha hell do ya want? I'm trying to fuckin' sleep here," the man growls while leaning against the wall nearest to him. His eyes encounter mine and I'm slightly intimidated. This is one of the victors—someone who survived the games and has been living in one of the mansions. They become the tributes mentors, a person who helps coach them on what they need to know about the games. An inside scoop on things. If I were him, I'd probably be a little more grateful. At least he's still alive. I wonder just what kind of guy he is and how much help he's going to be.

"Oh stop complaining. You have to meet the new tributes!" Thiana exclaims as she gestures for him to sit down.

The man suddenly begins to laugh, startling everyone in the room including myself. "I'll pass," he ultimately says and retreats to his room once again, slamming the door loudly so all of us can hear.

Thiana looks towards me and states, "I suppose you'll have to wait until breakfast. Honestly, that man is absolutely the worst!" Her friends agree with her and she then tells us to just get some sleep, but be up by eight for breakfast.

Astrid and I get up from the sofa and meander our way back to our rooms. Before entering mine, the small girl grabs ahold of my shirt and halts me.

I sigh a bit and turn around to face her. "What's wrong now?" She looks pained, her eyes focused on our socks. I think she's crying, but I can't really tell. Her breathing seems inconsistent and she doesn't speak. I take her wrist in my hand and pull on it so her eyes come across mine. "I told your mom I would do anything in my power to protect you in the games, but you have to try too, Astrid. You can't be this scared little girl anymore. I told you to be strong, so show it. Show me you can be tough like I know you are." She begins to cry and I keep talking, the words flowing from my mouth like an untamed water fall, "You've taken care of your family all this time. You risked your life for them by putting your name in the reaping. You stood up to the capitol by working in that dairy, and you walked onto this train, knowing you might never come back." I turn around, away from her and let her go. Her arm falls to her side and I can't see them, but I feel she continues to look at me with those sullen eyes. I utter one more thing before turning in for the night, "Do _not_ fear death. Live the rest of your life with your head held high and never let them know that you're afraid. Show them that they can't just push us around. Let those bastards know that they don't own us."

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**A/N: Hey! Letting you know about Eret. He's actually not an OC, I read that he is going to be one of the characters in HTTYD2. Though, I have no idea what he looks like so I made that up. I basically just stole his name and a little bit of his personality. I like him so far, haha. Trying not to make this too much like the book, but enough to give it that awesome, dark feel, ya know? **

**Also sorry for any mistakes, fuck this writing style, OMG!**

**Please don't forget to review!**


	3. 3

**A/N: I take so long to write lately...I hate having a job and being all grown up and stuff...I'd rather just stay home and write all day long! Hahah. But yeah. Sorry this took so long. I hope you enjoy what I got finished though! Jack is in this one, but just a bit. The next chapter should have a lot more of him~ Let me know what you guys think! Love hearing about it. :]  
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**Oh, and not sure if this has errors or not. It might. Once again, this writing style is biting me in the ass, lol. **

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**3. **

I think I dream of something but when I wake, I can't remember what it was about. Sunlight is breaking through the window to my left and I cringe at it. I'm still on the train. District three is miles away and I'm on my way to the capitol.

That fact is almost too hard to believe, even when I know it to be true.

My head feels heavy as I heave myself out of the bed. I want to shower, but the smell of breakfast stops me short of that. My stomach is loudly rumbling as I get dressed in long pants and a t-shirt. As soon as I exit my room, I hear voices. I recognize one to be Thiana's, the other's sound a little more distant. It's easy to distinguish hers amongst any; those high pitched squeals could break glass.

A few sets of eyes settle on me as I survey my surroundings. The table is laden with all breakfast foods imaginable. I think back to the last time I ever ate this kind of food. It was when my mother was alive and she had bought some eggs and cheese. I had asked her where she'd gotten such rare foods, but she just brushed me off and told me to dig in. I wanted to think she had just bought the food, but I saw the bruises on her legs and the scratches on her cheek. My mother was always thinking of me first—when my father couldn't work, she had to take over and support me. Sometimes, I wasn't so sure she knew how. With sullen thoughts, I remembered to thank her for it. That was many years ago. Since then, I don't think I've even eaten breakfast let alone breakfast foods.

The man, Eret Gareth, stares at me with drooping eyes. He looks tired still, and somewhat bored, maybe even aggravated. This guy is lucky though, and he has no right to glare at me—at least he's already survived the games and can live in peace.

Thiana is at the table with two of her ridiculously dressed capitol mates, laughing and drinking what looks to be tea out of fancy mugs. But what upsets me is that I can't find Astrid.

"The girl isn't awake yet," Thiana tells me, probably noticing my wandering eyes. "But she had better get up soon! All this food is going to get cold. Honestly, the nerve of some people…"

I brush off her rude remark—she's from the capitol, and even though that shouldn't be an excuse, it stops me from tearing her hair out.

In a second, I turn around and begin my way back to our rooms. I have to make sure Astrid is okay. However, I'm stopped short of my action when I hear his voice speak to me. "Hey, kid. Sit down."

My throat feels dry as I stare at my feet which are frozen still. I guess that it's probably a bad idea to ignore him, so I turn around again and sit down at the table. He's giving me the same look, something akin to anger.

_What the hell did I ever do to him?_ I ask myself while crossing my arms against my chest.

We scrutinize each other for about a minute, and then I watch as he reaches for the plate of eggs. I hear his voice again while he shovels the food in, "Well you're off to a _great_ start."

"Excuse me?" I inquire, my eyebrow raising, arms still crossed.

"You'd better fucking eat, you idiot," he says offensively while pointing to the food with his fork. "Unless you plan on trying to look thin for the capitol ceremony."

He's harsh, but right. I begin to eat and a cynical smile envelops his features. The food is marvelous and it reminds me of my mom again. A small ache settles in my chest while I pick up a mug that's full of juice. It tastes like liquid sugar to me. I hate that the capitol gets to eat this every day and stuff their faces while we all stave in the districts. I really hate it, almost enough to cause my appetite to vanish.

"So…" I say suddenly, attempting to force the depressing thoughts from my mind. Eret's attention is caught and he looks towards me. "You're supposed to be our mentor, then?"

He laughs instantly, a bark really, and then wipes his face clear of syrup. "If you're going to call me that, please use it lightly."

_Great_, I growl to myself, my eyes avoiding his again, _I get stuck with the asshole who doesn't give a shit about the tributes._

"Mentor or not, you have to teach Astrid and I what you know about the games," I say, my focus straying throughout the room.

Eret keeps eating; his table manners are about as well rounded as mine. "You got questions: ask 'em. Otherwise I don't have 'ta do jack-fuckin'-shit." He's really vulgar I notice. Maybe from winning the games he's come to think of everything as one big joke.

_Perhaps it really is_, I think fleetingly.

"Alright," I begin, focusing my full attention on him finally, "how did you win?"

He visibly stops his ravenous eating and swallows one last time. His eyes aren't on me; they watch the windows behind me. With shaking hands, the man reaches for a butter knife; clasping it against his palm he rubs the sharp edge with his thumb. He looks younger now and scared. When he speaks, I try not to show my fear.

"It was easy, really…" His eyes are void of emotion while he twirls the knife around, "I waited in a tree."

I turn confused. "What?"

"I waited in a fuckin' tree, are you deaf?!" he shouts at me and throws the knife. It crashes into a vase and shatters.

Thiana and the capitol members all freak out, one runs out of the room and Thiana starts to scream at Eret. "That was _porcelain_!"

"Shut up! Why don't you go dye your fuckin' hair or something?!" he shouts back at her. She seems highly offended and then storms out of the room. My heart is racing as the man sits back down and runs his long fingers through ashen hair. "I fuckin' hate this bullshit…"

He seems dangerous, yet they allow him to be around children. Not that that's saying much. They send twenty-three off us to be slaughtered every year, and tons more die in the districts from starvation and diseases.

At least there is one thing Eret and I can agree on:

We both hate this.

My eyes go to the small blonde girl now standing beside the broken vase. I rush towards her, without thinking. "Hey. I was starting to worry."

"Awe, kid! Save the romance for the games! That'll get those capitol fuck's goin'!" Eret cackles and leans back in his chair, it creaks loudly. I decide to disregard him.

"You sleep okay?" I ask her.

She nods and looks over my shoulder at the food. I don't want her sitting anywhere near Eret, so I fill a plate and lead her towards the couch. She eats in silence and I resume my seat across from the uncouth man.

"You said you waited in a tree," I begin, watching him intently this time, "I want to know what you mean by that."

"Wow, ya don't fuckin' give up do you, kid?" I hate how he keeps calling me kid, but I don't want to upset him in the slightest. There is too much silverware on this table for that. "Alright. I'll let ya in on my secret." I lean in a little because his voice goes an octave lower. Eret smirks and licks his lips then whispers, "_I cheated_."

"How the hell do you cheat the games?" I say abruptly, my eyes blinking rapidly.

A small laugh escapes him. "I jus' waited for everyone else ta die."

"Didn't you get hungry? Or thirsty?" I ask.

He shakes his head, the smile still encompassing his face. "Naw. Before going up in that tree, I filled my canteen with water and drank that periodically. I was pretty damn used ta not eating for days." He picks up a roll and pokes my nose with it suddenly. "And I ate as much of this shit as I could before the games."

He survived in a tree for days with some water and the remaining food he had in his stomach. I back away from him and glance at Astrid. She's watching the television; some pompous news caster is announcing upcoming events on the games.

I turn away in an instant and look back at Eret. He's smiling at me, but it's laced with evil. I really hope this guy can learn to get along with me.

"So what happened, in the end?" I ask him one more question, trying not to let the conversation die.

He raises an eyebrow at me and the smile is gone. "The last two died. Pretty sure one a them fell down a cliff and the other was mauled to death by some kinda animal."

Eret was lucky to have won the games. He could have easily died from some kind of sickness or dehydration. If those other two had taken longer to die and he'd run out of water then he would have been screwed.

But he wasn't. And I envy him for that.

I stare at the man a bit more while he leans back again, balancing the chair on two legs. "We'll be at tha' capitol in a few hours. I suggest ya both eat as much as possible and get some more rest."

Maybe he does care, if only a little. Dunno. The only thing I _do_ know is that he's right—again. I finish eating and join Astrid on the sofa. I nudge her shoulder a little and she jumps, scared, not of me but everything else.

"How're you feeling? Had enough to eat?" She nods, another time. It frustrates me a little. "You gotta start talking to me again soon."

Her eyes are burdened with sadness as she looks down at her fingers which are intertwined on her lap. I sigh a little loudly and get up once again. I'm in no mood to be overlooked or depressed, nor do I want to rest.

I sit down at the table again and Eret laughs at me. "Your little girlfriend givin' ya the cold shoulder?"

"Fuck off," I say.

He plays with the edge of his nose ring and smiles cockily at me. "Ya got any more questions, lover boy?"

"Yeah, how do I get sponsors?" I ask, leaning on the table with my elbows.

I know what they are because I've watched the games for as long as I can remember—it's mandatory for everyone in the districts. But I never knew how the tributes received them. What does it take to get help in the games? What is my best course of action if I need something?

Eret is my only chance at getting those answers and staying alive.

"Well first ya gotta be congenial," he says simply.

"How do I do that?" I ask him, eyes tightening a bit.

He laughs. "Put on a performance for them. Obviously ya'not the sweetest cookie in the batch. And I really think ya could care less about those pompous fuck-tards livin' in the capitol. But ya gotta _pretend_ like none of that matters anymore, alright?"

_How am I going to pretend that I don't hate them…? _I ask myself.

He seems to notice how my eyebrows narrow and my lips are set in a firm line. "Look, kid. If ya wanna stay alive, listen ta what I say. I'm not the greatest mentor, but I'm not an idiot. I _did_ win those damn games." My awareness rises when he speaks again and I listen carefully to what he has to voice. "Once we reach tha capitol, tha stylists will get ahold of ya. It's a pain in the ass, but just go along with it. Whatever they dress ya up in, don't bitch and moan like I know ya want to," he eyes me funny and I look away quickly, "And after that, you'll be on camera—a lot. So just be as likable as possible. Try 'an make that girl your ploy or somethin'."

"What?"

"She's all quiet 'an shy 'an stuff. Try 'an make it seem like ya wanna protect her. People in tha capitol eat that shit up, and sponsors will too."

I glace over at Astrid who can't hear us. I'll explain everything to her later. Perhaps she could be listening and sitting with us, but for some reason, I really _do_ want to protect her.

"Alright, I can do that," I say.

"Good," he then picks up a plate full of food and pushes it towards me. "I bet ya got room for more."

The hours tick by and soon the train enters some kind of underpass. It's so strange being in such a fast moving vehicle or any vehicle at all. I try not to look out the windows because seeing the swift moving scenery makes me feel sick. I've kept down the capitols food so far, even though Eret keeps shoving more down my throat. Perhaps he thinks he can make me win the same way he did.

The tunnel is long, but when we reach the other side, my eyes expand and Astrid grips my arm tighter. It's huge—the capitol I mean. I've never seen anything like it, maybe in picture books my mother used to show me as a kid, but even that doesn't compare at all. The buildings are like castles, towering into the sky, touching the clouds. It almost appears to be floating on water, like some kind of dream world. Even with its grandeur, I feel like it should look more like a waste dump. My burning hatred is so deep that I can't really see it as much else.

We're both standing there at the window as Thiana squawks behind us. "You can see my house from here! Look, kids! It's the big pink one!"

_Of course it's fucking pink_, I want to say but don't.

Today she's wearing some kind of flamingo ensemble, so I say, "Must be nice having a house that matches your dress." Obviously I'm being sarcastic, but she takes it differently.

"Finally, someone who understands. Thank you, Hieden. I agree. I think everyone should paint their houses accordingly."

I roll my eyes, thankful she can't see. At least she's not mean—just really airheaded. I can deal with people like Thiana as long as she isn't completely against me.

In a few instants, the train pulls up to a station and Astrid and I are quickly escorted out by some guards. The air is warm here, unlike district three and again I'm not very used to it. Suddenly, the noise hits me like a tidal wave of sound. There are so many people, all screaming and yelling and fawning over something. The more I focus my eyes on all of the bright colors, the more I realize that they are all looking at us. There are strange looking cameras attached to wheels that move up and down and sideways, capturing our every move. I feel violated.

My eyes meet Eret's and he narrows his stare. "Fuckin' smile, ya idiot," he says then points to Astrid, "'an hold her hand."

I do as I'm told. Holding the girl's hand isn't hard at all, but smiling is taking its toll on me. I want to glare at each and every one of these jerk-offs. They look like fucking circus performers. It seems as though everyone has a different hair color. I can tell they spend too much time in front of the mirror, but in the end it doesn't make any difference. It astounds me that they could ever think they look halfway decent at all. Some have had surgery to make their faces appear rounder or thinner. Most just look like aliens, though.

My back is pushed on and I want to scream at whoever keeps touching me. My teeth are grinding together by the time we are each separated again. I'm thrown into a large room with four capitol members staring me down. The door is locked and I feel very trapped.

They circle me and say strange things under their breath, as if they don't want me knowing anything. Their voices are abnormal enough; I can hardly understand them to being with. These are the stylists that everyone talks about. They're going to strip me naked and clean me then take me to their leader for wardrobe. I remember what Eret said as I feel them begin to take my clothes off.

_I have to let them do this. I fucking have to. _

The next few hours are pure torture. They all take no care in what they're doing. They clip my nails back too far so that I'm bleeding on at least four of my fingers. One of them pulls a knot out of my hair the size of a fist. I'm scrubbed so hard that I end up draining from a few scabs I'd forgotten I had. I'm picked and prodded at until I smell like rose petals and dandelions.

"Are we almost _fucking_ done?" I ask angrily and spent for the second time. I'm getting to the end of my rope.

The tallest and skinniest stylist glares feverishly at me as he's plucking my eyebrows. "You are almost finished, yes."

More minutes pass and I wait until I'm finally set free of their grabby hands. I heave a sigh of relief as they all exit the room and leave me alone for the first time in hours. I furiously rub my shoulders and they feel too clean—way too smooth, like a girl should feel. Using what's left of my finger nails, I drag them across my skin and leave deep red marks. Maybe it's stupid to do, but I feel like they had just spent so much time trying to make me pretty. I just really want to mess it up somehow.

The door opens and I become very self-conscious—being naked and all. I try to hide what I can of my body while I'm sitting there. A man walks in slowly, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He's tall and lanky, probably in his mid thirty's. His hair is well done; he doesn't look ridiculous like most of the people here. Its three different colors though—blue, white and black. I'm guessing this guy is my stylist.

When he finally stops in front of me, he takes the smoke from his mouth and taps it into one of the cups the other's had used to wash me with.

"Hieden, right?" He speaks a little funny, to me at least. He's got some kind of strange accent.

"Yeah," I say.

The man walks a bit further and circles me, as if that's never happened. I stare at the floor and bite my lip a little. Once he's done observing me, he walks over to a coat rack and throws me a jacket. I instantly put it on and feel ten times more comfortable.

"My name is Aster," he says and shakes my hand abruptly. "I'm supposed to make you look good for everyone."

"Let's hope you can."

He smiles as the door opens once again and a few servants bring in some food. I blink a bit and watch as they set out a whole meal in front of the table for me and this man. It's roasted turkey legs with apple jam and mashed sweet potatoes. On the side there is a plate full of small pastries of all shapes and sizes. My eyes are wandering as my stomach rumbles, they meet his and I look away quickly. I want to hate this guy as much as I hate everyone else. This has been his whole life—food being served to him whenever he damn well pleases. He's never had to go hungry or see his family starve.

My insides churn as I think of my father and mother. I miss them.

Aster puts out his cigarette and begins to eat. "You look troubled."

I pick up some food and eat as well, even if my chest and stomach hurt. "I'm alright."

He seems skeptical but says nothing else about it. "I'm going to dress you according to your district, which is factories and inventors."

Every district has some kind of theme. It's stupid because they think of it as a good way of making each district stand out, when in reality, we really _are_ just surrounded by factories or coal mines all day long. It's not some damn dress up game; it's a way of life for us.

"The girl is with my coworker, Sandy, who thinks that we should correspond both of your outfits. But I think the whole hard-hat, white suit deal is overdone."

_As long as I'm not naked, I don't care_, I say to myself.

"So we're going to make you glow."

I look up from my food and say, "What?"

"You're from a town full of bright inventors and factory lights all over the place. If we dress you up in a plain old white uniform, no one will second glance at you. But if I make you _glow_!" He holds up his hands, his fingers wiggling in excitement.

"How will you pull that off?" This guy doesn't bother me like the others do so I can actually hold a conversation with him. I'm glad for this momentary peace.

"I want you to look like a fucking light bulb when they bring you out," he laughs and stuffs some turkey in his mouth, "I have florescent suits, one for you and another for the girl. They're both white as a sheet, but when you activate the switch, they will light up and you'll glow like you've just hatched the greatest idea ever!"

It was definitely different. I liked the plan. Something to get people's attention. I wanted everyone to be looking at Astrid and I. Eret said that's the greatest way to get sponsors.

"Sounds great," I say.

"Good. Finish up your food and we'll get you dressed," Aster says while lighting up another cigarette.

I eat until I can't anymore and then follow Aster out of the room into another smaller one where he dresses me in a formfitting stretchy suit. The sleeves are long and cover everything besides the tips of my fingers. I'm also wearing boots that go up to my knees. The material is smooth on my skin; I'm surprised they took so much time in making something like this for someone from the districts. Then they paint my face and I can hardly breathe because of the fumes. My eyes are watering when Aster finishes and I can finally see myself in a mirror. I look strange. Everything is white except my eyes which are outlined in a bright yellow color. They even colored my eyebrows and hair. All I can think of is how badly I want to itch my nose.

My stylist leads me out of the room and I follow him until we reach a large stable room at the very bottom of the center. This is where we will ride the chariots out and show ourselves off to the people of the capitol, and also the sponsors as well. When I walk in, I see people and horses everywhere. I think most of the kids are tributes, I recognize a few from the reapings. I try to keep up with Aster, but he's walking very fast. On accident, I knock into someone.

I stare with wide eyes at the boy. He's decently tall with snowy hair. I remember his name—Jackson Overland. He was the one who swore profusely on national television. I smile a little at the memory of him; I kind of liked how he exploded in front of the capitol like that. Anyone who hates the capitol that much is probably going to get along with me just fine. As I think this, I'm caught up in staring at his stunning features, but I soon notice that he's completely naked. I mean, he's nude, but he's painted, his whole body is covered in a metallic paste that makes him look like he's made of metal. He's wearing only one item of clothing—a small scarf that looks like it's made of sawdust. This is probably because district seven is known for their lumber. This guy is probably very good with an axe.

He notices my fixed stare and grins like a hyena; his eyes are outlined with black makeup, making him look really edgy. "Like what you see, three?" The boy must have seen me on television as well because he knows what district I'm from. Though I notice he seems a bit full of himself, either that or just really confident.

I laugh and try to brush off the fact that I'm blushing. He seems fine with being uncovered though. "Aren't you embarrassed?"

"Pfft," he says, running his fingers through his hair angrily, "I just hope I don't pop a fucking boner while riding in the chariot. Wouldn't want them thinking I actually enjoy this shit." I make a small giggling noise and he smiles a little. It's a great smile, and it looks very good on him, even when he's covered from head to toe in paint. "My name is Jackson, by the way. Friends call me Jack, though."

"Hieden," I say, "My friends call me Hiccup."

"How cute," he says, grinning at me again.

I can't tell if this guy is flirting with me or not, but I like it. _I like him_, I admit to myself. I liked him ever since I saw him on that screen, swearing and cursing at the capitol. What a strange place and predicament to end up falling for someone. I'm about to die and I decide to have a crush on one of the tributes. Hopefully he won't be the one to kill me.

My eyes travel a bit lower, but I'm stopped short when Aster calls my name. I see Jack smirk once more before I turn to leave. "Catch ya later, Hic."

I wave a little and try not to stare any more than I already have.

Astrid is standing at the chariot, along with a small blond haired man who I assume to be Sandy, and Aster as well.

"Making friends, Hieden?" Aster raises an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah. Maybe he won't kill me as quickly as the other's will," I say with indifference in my tone.

Aster and Sandy look upset, but I ignore them and climb into the carriage. Astrid follows and stands beside me, seeming even more timid than before.

"Hieden," Aster says my name and I look at him once more, "Press the buttons."

I look down at my suit and see the small black button on my palm. I click it and instantly light up. I'm so bright that my eyes hurt a little. Astrid does hers as well and soon I can't see much at all. Everything is blurry when the huge doors open and I can hear the screaming crowd and the opening music is blasted as loud as possible. The streets are lined with people as the first chariot exits the building. I can only see that the horses are white—I can't make out the tribute's outfits much.

My ears and eyes hurt, but soon we are next and our horses quickly pull us away from Aster and everyone else. I'm scared when I see how many people are watching us. It's too many, and they are all yelling so loudly. Apparently they like our attire, because they seem a lot noisier than before.

I look to Astrid and she's shaking wildly. I pull her closer to me then she leans her head on my chest. I try to remember what Eret said before. I have to use Astrid as much as I can. The girl means a lot to me, so of course I want to protect her, even if I am being a little overdramatic about it. I just hope that my performance looks okay to the sponsors. I want to at least get her as much help as possible—I did promise her mother. If anyone wins the games, I want it to be Astrid. She has so much to go back to and I have nothing.

So I am going to try my hardest, for her.

The crowd screams some more. I can only hear that and the stupid music. It's piercing my ears and making my head pound.

Our chariot pulls up to the City Circle after being piloted through the vast amount of capitol slobs. We stop in front of the Presidents mansion and here we have to wait until the rest of the carriages join us. I watch intently as chariot seven rides out and Jackson is pulled through those doors. He's with the small girl, the one I watched cry on TV. She looks petrified because she too is naked, the silver paint being the only thing covering her tiny body. I can't believe they would allow such a thing. I feel so sorry for her and then look away because she's trying to cover herself up.

Once district twelve pulls up, the President makes an appearance. He's still sickly looking, comparable to a snake that hasn't been fed in months. I can't help but glare at him. He says a few words, like how he wishes the best for the tributes and a few things about the capitol. I try to drown out his voice, but it's proving a bit difficult. I catch myself staring at Jack's backside more than anything else. Soon enough, the anthem plays once again and we are all taken into the Training Center. This is where we will live until we are thrust into the games. Each of our chariots are pulled into the large room and we exit the carts. I see Thiana and she runs up to the both of us, exclaiming happily at how gorgeous and amazing we both looked out there.

Astrid seems to be overwhelmed; I merely nod and thank Thiana, attempting to be as polite as I can. This woman is probably going to help us get sponsors, Eret had informed me that she has some kind of control over whether that happens or not. So I decide to be kind to her, even if she is the most obnoxious and overly dressed person I've ever seen.

"You two will be the talk of the town!" Thiana says as she escorts us onto an elevator. "Your stylists are brilliant. I must meet them!"

I nod again and look around before we are confined to the elevator. I guess I'm trying to spot Jackson. I want to see him again. I want to speak to the girl and console her. I want to give her a robe or something so she's not so bare. And I want to get to know that boy some more—before I have to plot out a way to kill him.

Astrid and I are ushered onto the platform and I have no further time to look for the boy. There are buttons covering the wall of the elevator. It's large and spacious inside—something that confuses me. I've never been in an elevator, but whenever I thought of one, I always used to picture an old run down box with pulleys and gears rusted over. This thing looks like it could be a room in itself. It even has a chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

It goes incredibly fast so I can't enjoy it for long. Soon we are at the third floor, where our rooms are. Astrid follows me closely, her hand attached to the side of my suit.

When we walk into the complex, I see Eret and our stylists, Aster and Sandy, sitting at the dining table. The kitchen is vast—I've never seen anything like it. It's at least twice as big as our cafeteria at work. Everything is clean, shiny, and pristine. Bright flowers are in every vase, there's a faint smell of lavender and coconut in the air. I spy a couch that looks like it could possibly be made of clouds.

I walk towards Eret, being careful where I step. I feel like maybe I'll dirty the place with my shoes or trip and break some fancy statue.

"You did good out there, kid," Eret says. He's chewing on a toothpick while leaning back in the chair. There's food in front of him, but he hasn't eaten much it seems.

I thank him and he tells me to get changed so I can eat. The blonde girl follows me like a puppy and separates only once we reach our designated rooms. This one is much grander than the one on the train. I can hardly believe my eyes.

The bed is huge, big enough for seven people to sleep on. There's a bathroom that has a large tub, shower, and a small pool built into it. It's much too bright in there so I change in the main area. When I'm stripped down to nothing, I walk back into the bathroom and shower as quickly as possible. There are even more buttons on this machine and I'm feeling pretty nervous. I don't want to set anything off again or perhaps turn the water on too hot or too cold. Once I'm finished with cleaning myself of every last bit of paint, I dry off with the blow dryer. It's some kind of platform that you step on and it instantly dries you. I find it strange and a little intrusive.

Instead of messing with anymore of the bathroom gadgets, I decide to go choose an outfit from a large wardrobe full of clothes. I end up wearing a brown t-shirt and green slacks. I can't believe the amount of clothes the closet has. My head is spinning by the time I'm dressed. My eyes go straight towards the window then, scanning the vast scenery laid out in front of them. It's gorgeous, to say the least. Even though we are not that high up I can still see so very far. The tops of buildings scrape the sky and the lights are bright against the darkening atmosphere. I breathe in a heavy sigh, my mind going empty aside from the faint tinge of anxiety that clouds my gut and squeezes my heart. It's very hard not to think of death at a time like this, even if all I want to focus on is how pretty everything looks. I wonder for a moment what Jackson thinks about all of this. He must be angry—even more so than I am. I picture him walking into his new living quarters and throwing everything he can get his hands on. His temper must get the best of him, or else he wouldn't have made such a scene on TV like that. I would act like that, but I have too much to lose. I've got to keep a level head, for Astrid and her family back home. If I want to keep her safe, I have to keep myself sane.

There's a knock on my door and I let them know it's open. Astrid walks in and I'm a little surprised. "Hey. Are you alright?"

She instantly runs towards me and falls into my arms. Her body is shaking violently. "I…I'm so scared…" Her voice is barely audible. She seems so small and innocent. I guess I hadn't realized it much before, but she's practically hopeless. This girl is strong on the inside, when it comes to family and friends I'm sure. But she is terrified out of her mind right now. At least I am able to come to terms with the whole thing—she most likely can only think of herself being stabbed in the chest or eaten by wolves. She's young and so very frightened.

_How in the hell am I going to keep this girl alive…? _


End file.
